


five steps to living

by babybel



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Fluff, Found Family, Gen, also a bit of emotional hurt/comfort, i just had to have zoe's trauma recovery arc in writing or i'd die, jamie/2 stuff is background, so here have 5 little drabbles of 'jamie and zoe and the doctor are a family'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:08:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23793610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybel/pseuds/babybel
Summary: Once she leaves the Wheel, Zoe faces the challenge of unlearning her programming. Slowly, she becomes acquainted with her emotions and with how to express them, and with the help of Jamie and the Doctor, she tries to accept that she is loved instead of just useful.
Relationships: Second Doctor & Zoe Heriot, Second Doctor/Jamie McCrimmon, Zoe Heriot & Jamie McCrimmon
Comments: 14
Kudos: 46





	1. three weeks in

**Author's Note:**

> admittedly i'm going a lot off what they describe zoe's programming as in the audios, especially wreck of the world.  
> i literally just love her so much and i get so emotional when i think about how in the wheel in space she's like "am i a robot? will i ever feel like regular people?" and then like 2 stories later she's laughing her head off and getting scared and holding onto 2 and jamie and Feeling because being with these people who feel unapologetically healed her..  
> gonna update once a day cause most of this is written already and just needs editing

A calculator. That was what the man had called Zoe. Not that it came as any surprise. That was her function, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t heard it before. Back on the Wheel, Leo used to go through a whole roster of dehumanizing names. Computer, that was one of them. She was a computer. That was normal. 

What wasn’t normal was Jamie telling the man not to talk to her that way. What wasn’t normal was the way the Doctor put his hand on her shoulder and gently but firmly pulled her away. She’d been so unused to it, so unprogrammed to deal with it, that she’d frozen up and been silent all the way back to the TARDIS. 

Now, she sat across the sofa from Jamie in one of the many living rooms. There were so many rooms on the ship that if her memory was anything less than perfect she’d be lost every time she tried to go anywhere. She had been quiet, not knowing what to say or how to think about what happened, or process it. She had a notebook full of graphing paper, and a pen - she always did her equations in pen, a subtle boast - but she wasn’t focusing on her maths. She couldn’t, because she couldn’t stop thinking about earlier. 

She watched Jamie. He had a little crease between his eyebrows, like he always did when he was concentrating, and he kept his lower lip pinned between his teeth. She’d never seen anyone read as slowly as he was reading; minutes passed between each page he turned. It wasn’t her job to judge, so she didn’t comment. 

But, as time wore on, she found it impossible to prevent her mind from returning to the way the Doctor and Jamie had both reacted to what that man had called her. She was unable to leave problems unsolved, and now she was left with the question of why they’d done what they did. It would kill her not to have an answer; she always needed an answer. 

“Jamie?” she asked, finally, when she couldn’t keep herself from it any longer. 

“Aye?” He looked up from his book. “What?”

“When we were on Gribon earlier-”

“Is this about getting us lost?” Jamie put the book down in his lap. “I told you I’m sorry, I know I should’ve listened to you. I’m usually good at directions, I’ll have you know.”

Zoe shook her head. “No, that’s fine. It’s, um-” She felt her throat tighten, and nausea creep up on her. She wasn’t programmed for this. She wasn’t programmed for this. 

“Hey, are you all right?” Jamie looked worried. 

“Yes, I’m perfectly set.” She said the words in her head, then out loud: “Why did you tell that man off?”

Jamie’s head fell slightly to the side inquisitively. “The blue fellow?”

“Yes.” Zoe couldn’t look at him anymore, and looked down at her graphing paper. 

“Well, I couldn’t let him just say that stuff about you,” Jamie said it like it was obvious. “It wasn’t proper, it was- rude. If the Doctor hadn’t been there I’d have done a lot more than tell him off, I can promise you that.” 

“But what did it matter to you? He wasn’t talking about you,” Zoe reasoned. 

Jamie shrugged. “I didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way it made you feel, I could see it on your face. Plus, even if you didn’t care, I-” He stopped, and picked his book back up. “I don’t know. You’re too good for things like that, you don’t deserve it.” 

Zoe nodded, to show him she heard, and started scribbling her equations down the page, plotting curves on hastily drawn axes. She didn’t know what to think, and when she stopped writing for a moment she found her hands were trembling, and her chest felt warm. 


	2. five weeks in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i WILL be picturing them as a domestic little family and nothing anyone can do will stop me

Another benefit of the TARDIS, everything else that had saved her life aside, was that they could have actual food when they wanted. On the Wheel, there’d be tablets and that was it. Here, she could have toast for breakfast. 

That was what she was having, toast with jam, set on a little plate next to her textbook on string theory. 

On top of real food, it was nice to have a real table that they all sat down around like a- well, she wouldn’t say it, or even think it. It was nice, she amended, to be able to do her own work and see in the seat opposite hers the Doctor working on his outdated crossword puzzles. That’s what he did most mornings. He kept a seemingly infinite pile of newspapers from all through time just so he never ran out of crosswords. 

Jamie was messing with the kettle, and after a minute he asked, “Zoe, tea or coffee?” 

“Coffee, thanks,” Zoe answered. 

“You’re just as bad as the Doctor,” Jamie muttered, but he pulled mugs down from the cupboard all the same. 

“Do you have a word,” the Doctor ventured, “which is what happens when a reaction has petered out? It’s- it’s on the tip of my tongue.” 

Zoe watched him think for a moment before supplying the answer. “Chemical equilibrium.” 

“Equilibrium, that’s it.” The Doctor made a note on his paper. “Saving grace, Zoe, truly. Thank you.” 

Zoe looked back down to her textbook, smiling. 

After a few minutes, Jamie set a mug in front of her. 

“Jamie, how’d you know to put cream and honey?” she asked, lifting the honey spoon from the mug and setting it on her plate. For some reason, the fact that he’d somehow known how she liked her coffee was giving her that headache she always got when her mind was trying to get away with feeling something. 

“Saw you make it that way last week,” Jamie answered, handing the Doctor his mug as well before draping himself over the back of the Doctor’s chair to squint at the crossword puzzle. 

“Oh,” she managed, and her eyes felt hot and she couldn’t cry, not now. She had a structure of self-imposed restrictions, and she was only allowed to cry if she was completely alone, and even then hardly ever. It was just one of the things she couldn’t do. She couldn’t. She rubbed the corners of her eyes with her thumb until she was sure there were no tears in them. 

She wasn’t sure why such a tiny thing was upsetting her so much. Well, she knew perfectly, of course. It made logical sense. She just wasn’t used to the simple act of being cared for. 

“That’s not a real word,” Jamie was saying, laughter in his voice. 

“Yes it is,” the Doctor argued, no bite to his words at all. He was looking over at Jamie in that way he sometimes did, the way that made Zoe feel like she was intruding just by watching them. But then he looked up at her and said, “Zoe, discombobulate. That’s a word, isn’t it?”

“Discombobulate,” Zoe repeated, and smiled just from saying it. Silly word. “It’s a verb, it means to confuse or disorient someone or something.” Then, internally, she winced, preparing for the inevitable comment comparing her to a dictionary or library. 

It never came. Instead, the Doctor said, “That’s my clever girl,” and then looked back over at Jamie and added a pointed little, “Ha.”

Jamie grinned, looking down and play-hitting the Doctor’s shoulder while muttering something under his breath. 

Zoe took a sip of her coffee, trying to ignore how she felt full of pride, different from the pride she got from completing assignments on the Wheel. Jamie’d put too much honey in her drink, but she couldn't find it in her to mind. 


	3. two months in

When the Doctor finally got back to their hiding place, coat stained with soot, Zoe rushed to him on instinct, and stopped about a foot off. “What happened?”

“Well, the workshop’s all gone up in flames,” he answered, and he sounded pleased with himself. “That rocket’s not getting off the ground any time-”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Jamie said sharply. “Not on your own.” He was glaring at the Doctor as he came over towards them. “What if you’d gotten yourself caught? What if- and we were just sitting here waiting-”

“Now, Jamie, there was-”

“No.” Jamie pulled the Doctor’s handkerchief out of his pocket and started dusting the soot off his coat, jaw clenched. 

The Doctor looked over at Zoe sheepishly, and gave her a little shrug that was surely meant to assure her. 

At that, Jamie stopped messing with the handkerchief and pulled the Doctor into a hug that seemed to go on forever. He kept shifting little things, how his hands held the Doctor’s back, how his face was pressed into the Doctor’s shoulder, and when he finally stepped away he said, “Just don’t make us stay behind next time.” 

The Doctor was looking at him softly, and said, quietly, “All right. You’ve got it.” 

“Right,” Jamie said firmly. “Right, we’re going home.” He kept a hand on the Doctor’s coat all the way back to the TARDIS. 

All that evening, Zoe was wary around Jamie, just because she wasn’t sure if he expected anything from her or had wanted her to do or say anything. She could keep up with both him and the Doctor perfectly fine on grounds of intellect, on grounds of usual conversation, but on grounds of emotion, she felt leagues behind. And, sometimes more glaringly, on grounds of physical comfort as well. 

It would have to take years and years of physically knowing yourself and other people to get used to the kind of touchy Jamie was with the Doctor, but maybe that was just what she thought. It made her wonder sometimes if it was something everybody but her did. All she knew was in her training and on the Wheel, there weren’t things of that sort. People just didn’t act like that, it just didn’t happen. 

And maybe she’d been staring, or, more accurately, looking on accident while zoned out, thinking, because Jamie stopped putting dishes away and turned to glare at her. 

She looked back down at her work. Her ‘work’; she didn’t have to do it, she went through solving equations by choice, to keep herself busy and in practice. Perhaps, though, she should have done it in her room.

“What?” Jamie demanded. 

“Nothing,” she said, and couldn’t help but feel like she was arguing, which wasn’t what she wanted. She knew it was just left-over stress that was making him snap at her, she was familiar with how he worked. Then, she added, “Are you like that with everyone?”

“Like what?”

“Like how you and the Doctor are,” Zoe answered. 

Jamie frowned, and went over to the table, folding his arms over the back of a chair. “How do you mean?”

“Well, the way you hugged him today,” she explained, structuring points in her head as if to write an essay. “People don’t do that where I’m from.”

“They don’t?” Jamie’s tone wasn’t argumentative anymore; he seemed, if anything, mildly worried. 

Zoe shook her head. “Not really.” 

“But you have done it before, haven’t you? You’ve gotten a hug, you must have,” he insisted.

She tried to imagine it, and it was impossible. Everyone she’d known were other students or colleagues, and it just wasn’t standard or acceptable to be that close or friendly with anyone. “Not that I can remember, no,” she answered. 

Jamie looked nonplussed. After a moment, he said, “Oh, you’re having me on, aren’t you.” 

“No,” she replied, trying not to feel offended by the implication that she’d lie about something she was genuinely curious about. 

“But, your parents-”

“I can’t remember my parents, I never really knew them.” 

“Your friends-”

“Not friends, peers,” Zoe corrected. “It wasn’t that kind of environment.” 

Jamie went over to her and beckoned her up out of her chair. “Come on, come here.” 

She got up cautiously, and froze when he put his arms around her. It took her almost a full thirty seconds to relax, but when she did, she was able to break it down into a bunch of little things, and realized they were all good. Jamie was warm, and that was nice, and he was also strong, and that was nice as well. It made her feel safe. The way he had his chin tucked on top of her head made her feel young, which was all right, because she’d recently been coming to terms with the fact that she really was young. 

Tentatively, she touched her hands to his shoulders, giving him the most gentle hug back. 

“There you go,” Jamie said, and after another moment let go of her. “Not so bad, was it?”

She shook her head. In fact, she felt more loved than she ever had, and she didn’t know how to process it or compartmentalize it. Then, because she felt emboldened and confused and for some reason less guilty than usual, she offered, “Would you like to hear about what I’m working on? It’s relative set velocities.”

Jamie winced. Then blew out a sigh and said, “Aye, all right.” He pulled a chair next to hers, which she sat back down in. 

She went off on her explanation, because she felt like she had to repay him somehow and this, as disappointing as it was, was the only love language she could speak. Halfway through trying to describe the difference between velocity and speed, she made the conscious effort to put her hand on Jamie’s shoulder. She realized that she’d have to be intentional, but she would heal. 

When she did it, Jamie looked up from the diagram she was drawing and gave her a smile before tucking an arm around her and asking her to go over again why direction played into how fast something was going. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jamie looking at zoe: on god we're gonna get you a hug


	4. six months in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is lowkey my favorite chapter of the fic.. :')

In true Jamie fashion, Jamie had picked a film for them all to watch and then had fallen asleep within the first half hour. 

Zoe had quickly found that she liked films a lot, and that they weren’t really the waste of time she’d assumed they were. The best ones had superheroes in them, and she loved them because they reminded her of the old Earth comic books she used to read in secret when she was a child. 

This wasn’t about superheroes, though, it was about normal people, and it didn’t have a happy ending. She had expected it. Films followed formulas, and it was easy to guess whether they would or wouldn’t end well. But for some reason, she was crying. She was crying a lot, and she couldn’t stop. 

She was in her own chair, so she hoped that the meter of distance between her and where the Doctor sat, Jamie’s head on his shoulder, would be enough to keep him from noticing. She pressed her hands over her eyes and willed herself to stop, but even the musical score of the scene was getting to her. 

She sniffled as quietly as she could, and held her breath, and bit the inside of her cheek, and did all the tricks she could think of, but it was just so sad. 

Once the film itself was over and the credits were playing, the Doctor asked quietly, “Zoe?”

“Yes?” Zoe replied, and her voice sounded like she had a cold. 

“Oh, it was one of those ones, wasn’t it,” he said, his tone warm. 

“Um-” Zoe wiped at her face. “I’m sorry. I’m usually not- I don’t know why I’m doing this.” 

The Doctor gave a little chuckle, and said, “Well, do you want the easy answer or the one you’re a bit less used to?”

Zoe hadn’t expected any answer at all, but knew that one would be nice. “Easy, please,” she said, hiccuping. She wasn’t sure if she was in the right mind to deal with anything difficult. 

“It’s a scientific reaction,” the Doctor explained gently. “Humans have something called emotional contagion, and it’s the phenomenon of seeing someone feel a certain way and beginning to feel that way yourself by proxy. They were upset in the film, so your body mirrors those emotions. It’s just a biological process for your species.”

That made Zoe feel infinitely better. So it wasn’t just her acting out, breaking programming for no reason. Although part of her had been intentionally trying to deprogram herself, and get free, it was still a great reassurance to have a scientific explanation. It settled the sharp feeling in her chest that told her she couldn’t cry. “Oh,” she finally answered. 

She looked over at the Doctor, and watched him give Jamie a few half-hearted little nudges in a weak attempt to wake him. 

“Absolutely hopeless,” the Doctor murmured, looking back up at her. “He’ll be out until tomorrow morning.” 

Zoe tried to smile, and her face felt puffy and hot, and it was sinking in that she’d just let herself cry in front of someone, and it was also sinking in that it wasn’t really bothering her like it used to. She asked, after a moment, “What’s the other answer? The one I’m not used to?”

“Just that we want the best for good people. That we’re all in this life together, and when pointless hurt happens it makes us sad,” he said quietly. “And it’s all right to feel that.”

“But they’re not real,” Zoe replied, wiping her nose. “That didn’t actually happen.” 

The Doctor gave a half shrug, careful not to dislodge Jamie, and said, “Still.” 

And that answer made her happy. She kept replaying the words over and over. It was good to feel, even about things that didn’t matter. She held them tight in her mind, memorized them over the things that had taught her the contrary like she was taping over an old video. It settled something deep in her she hadn’t even known was unsettled in the first place. 

After a while of silence, the Doctor said, “I grew up somewhere that treated all this the same as where you grew up treated it, I think. It took me a hundred years to learn that it was all right to feel things, and another hundred years to actually be able to talk about any of it.” He cleared his throat. “I’m just very proud of you for being able to- I’m- I’m not sure. You’re a whole lot stronger than I am.” 

Zoe never could’ve guessed that, not in a million years. She took a breath, and then she was crying again. She left her chair carefully and went and sat next to the Doctor, looping her arms around one of his. She didn’t know what to say, but wasn’t sure that she had to say anything anyway to let him know how much hearing that meant. 

He leaned his head against hers for a quick moment, and then pulled out his handkerchief and gently wiped her face. 

They sat like that in silence, looking at the projector scroll, which had long since gone black, and Zoe realized that she felt like she was home. Eventually, when the only residual feeling of crying was the slight itch in her eyes, she commented, unable to keep a smile off her face, “Jamie’s snoring.” 

“Yes, he is, a little bit,” the Doctor agreed fondly. “He does that.” 

Zoe laughed quietly, and couldn’t help comparing her and the Doctor and Jamie to the family in the film.


	5. eight months in

Zoe’d seen the Doctor nervous plenty of times before. Usually, it always manifested the same way: a sort of hyperactivity, even more so than usual, an absolute inability to keep still or quiet, often in the form of pacing and fidgeting. Now, though, he was dead silent, and dead still. His hands were in his lap, fingers laced together, and he hadn’t looked over at her - or really at anything - since just after they arrived. 

She wasn’t sure if she was meant to say anything. She’d gotten better at a lot of things, but she hadn’t exactly had practice for ‘Jamie’s half dead because he was being his stupid reckless self and we’ve spent the past three hours in the waiting room of an alien hospital.’ She herself was nauseous with fear, because she’d calculated percentages based on her best guess - a coping mechanism, she realized - and while Jamie was probably going to be fine, that fourteen or so percent chance that he wouldn’t was all she could think about. 

She made herself say it after running it over and over in her head and assuring herself that it was all right to say: “Doctor, I’m scared.” She looked down at her hands. 

After a moment, the Doctor said, “He’ll be fine. He’s strong. He’ll be fine.” 

Zoe knew that; the fear she felt was unfounded. Eighty-six percent unfounded, she reminded herself. 

“Only I wish he would stop thinking it was on him to keep us all safe,” the Doctor continued. “I’m scared as well.” 

Zoe reached over and held out a hand. 

The Doctor took it and held it with both of his. 

Although nothing had really changed, it made Zoe feel better. They sat that way until a hospital worker came over to them and said that Jamie wasn’t awake but they could sit with him instead of out in the waiting room if they liked. 

Zoe clung to the Doctor’s hand as they made their way to where Jamie was resting, and when they got into the room she had half a mind not to look. She had to, though, and when she did, it was a relief. Jamie still looked like Jamie, and moreover, he didn’t look too badly damaged. 

He was asleep, or unconscious. The things that really put her off were the IVs, but even they weren’t bad. He was breathing. 

She went over to him and sat next to the bed. She picked up his hand carefully, not touching the back of it where one of the tubes was taped to his skin, and laced her fingers together with his. She remembered when he taught her it was all right to do things like holding hands. 

The Doctor didn’t go over, but watched from where he stood, one hand half over his mouth. 

The nurse asked, “Are you his family?”

“Yes,” Zoe answered immediately. It wasn’t like she said it without thinking; she thought intensively about everything she said, and she’d finally, finally found herself able to admit it. Of course they were her family. Of course they were. She looked up, watching the Doctor sign a form with some surely fake name. 

He handed it back to the nurse and then came to sit next to Zoe. After far too long, he said, “He doesn’t look so bad, does he?”

“No,” Zoe returned. “He looks like he’s sleeping.” 

“My people,” the Doctor said, “change. Every once in a while we get a new life and we look completely different and everything starts over. This life, in this body-” He touched a hand to his chest. “I’ve spent it all with him.” 

Zoe blinked, processing it. A new body. “You’re not going to change again any time soon, are you?” she asked. 

“No, I’m not planning on it,” he assured her. Then, “Did you really mean it when you said we’re his family?”

“Well, if you’ve spent your whole life with him I’d say that means-”

“No, I mean- I mean you. Do you think of us as family?” He was watching her, and one of his hands had gone to Jamie’s hair, absentmindedly smoothing it back off his forehead. 

Zoe swallowed. She wouldn’t let herself freeze up. She’d said it because it was true, and because she was finally finding ways to voice these things, finally finding ways to be okay with feeling them. “I- yes. I do.” Her heart felt like it was beating hard enough to break her ribs, and she looked down at her and Jamie’s hands. 

“That’s an honor,” the Doctor said plainly. “To be your family is an honor. I’m terribly glad you snuck aboard the ship. I don’t know- well, I don’t know where we’d be without you.” 

Zoe tried to laugh, and found herself near tears. 

“You know, Jamie will be awfully torn up to have missed you saying that,” he added with a little smile. “He notices everything. All the progress you’ve made. He’ll tell me, sometimes, ‘Zoe just did this, she never used to do that.’”

It embarrassed Zoe, but at the same time, the amount of care Jamie would need to have for her in order to pick out each little step of her healing process was overwhelming, and made her feel so loved. “You and him saved my life, I think,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t have died if I’d stayed on the Wheel, but you both- you made me feel comfortable with being a person. I’d never really have known that I was missing out on everything.” 

The Doctor gave her a look that was terribly full of love, and said, “We really are a family, I’m afraid. We’ve all saved each other.” 

“Even him?” Zoe asked. She’d never known Jamie to ask for anything from anyone, and certainly not from her. 

“You didn’t know him when I first met him. He couldn’t sleep through a single night, he was…” The Doctor didn’t finish. “And he always needs to be caring for someone. That’s you and me, but especially you.” 

Now, Zoe was okay with being cared for, and if it helped Jamie then all the better. She held his hand a little bit tighter. 

It took Jamie half the day to wake up, and when he did, the first thing he did was give Zoe’s hand a squeeze, then give her a smile, then say, “I had you worried, didn’t I? Look at the two of you.” 

“Jamie, don’t say that,” she breathed, but she was smiling, flooded with relief. “How do you feel?”

“Better than ever.” Jamie laughed, and then winced. 

The Doctor pressed a kiss to Jamie’s forehead, and said, “Jamie.” 

“I know.” Jamie sounded vaguely apologetic. 

“That was a stupid, stupid thing you did.” 

“I know,” Jamie repeated, smiling. 

“Is there any point in telling you not to do it again?” The Doctor said it wearily. 

Jamie ducked his head down, looking over at Zoe. “Was he this bad the whole time?”

“Well- yes, but-” Zoe was overjoyed with seeing him awake and acting like his regular self, so much so it was hard to find words. That never used to happen. She was still alive with being able to admit they were her family. She was alive with having a family. She said, finally, “But, Jamie, really. Please be careful. More careful, at least.”

“I’ll try,” Jamie promised. 

Zoe knew he was only saying it to make her feel better, but there wasn’t anything that could really detract from how happy she was. 

He added, teasingly, “You care about me.” 

“Jamie, don’t,” the Doctor admonished. 

But Zoe said, “Yes, I do.” And there was no wave of fear, or of nausea, no creeping worry that she’d messed up. There was nothing. She was free. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, crying: so returning to the thesis of this paper, they're a family,

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @lesbiandonnanoble


End file.
